


i know you can show me

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dancing, Dress Up, Dresses, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Kissing, Older Man/Younger Woman, Second Chances, Sexual Content, Shitz is dead, Talking, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: For the Cousy RomCom Challenge. Daisy starts being Director. Coulson starts living his life. And their relationship shifts yet again. Title from the Foreigner song, "I Want To Know What Love Is."





	i know you can show me

"It's not right. It's not the way it looked in my head."

He sighs and glances up across the plans at Mack slightly scowling at her, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, leaning over the table.

For a moment he gets a flash of his father, wearing the same expression, talking to him about fixing Lola.

'You know, when he was Director-" Mack starts, pointing at him and shaking him out of his reverie.

Daisy turns to them over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow at him. "You had your chance to quit," she smirks. "You didn't."

"Yeah, go figure," he says with a shrug, then smiles to himself a bit privately. "You can thank Elena for that."

Coulson can't help but smile in kind, even as Daisy gives him a look. The idea that he would blame Elena, when he knows that Mack must want to pinch himself daily for ever being this happy.

Dad is a good look on Mack.

It must be nice to have it all.

"Just, make the fins bigger or something?" Daisy asks and starts to slip on her suit jacket watching the clock. "So it doesn't look like a...giant floating chicken."

He remembers that feeling, too. Like there's never enough hours in the day. Not for moments like this.

"That's not how it works, but, you're the boss," Mack says, rolling up the plans on the table as Daisy makes her way to the door. "No chickens. Copy that."

"You need some company?" Coulson calls after her.

She pauses to look him over from doorway and fixes the single button at the front of the suit.

"No, I can take care of this on my own. Thanks."

  
###

"Who's the guy?"

She returns to the office to see surveillance footage of her blown up on the monitor, and hesitates for a moment.

"We were just testing the new stealth DWARFs Deke assembled this week," he tries to explain to her. "I thought you wouldn't mind."

"He's with the USCIS," she starts slowly, crossing the room towards the desk. "Interested in overturning anti-Inhuman legislation. Possibly a run for office." She sits down behind the desk. "Don't you read my briefs?"

"I'm always playing catch up," he admits, pausing the image on the monitor of them having lunch. Of Daisy smiling over what looks like a huge burger. He advances the footage.

The man is handsome, and he still didn't get a name out of her.

Handsome and older, and with more hair than him, but grey in it. Not quite as good looking as, say, Andrew, but he's got large almond shaped eyes, possibly green, and he's very well dressed, well built, for someone on a government salar-

"Hey, Agent," Daisy says sharply, as he turns back to look at her, realizing he's far too distracted. "It was just a lunch."

He can almost feel himself start to blush as he switches the monitor back to the multi-screen media display, not sure what to do with himself now that he's caught.

Daisy simply opens a file and goes to work reviewing it.

"I guess, I should catch up on my reading then," he says, trying to make some switch in the awkward conversation.

She nods in agreement when her phone rings, her personal phone, and she waits then answers it after the third time.

"Diego. Hey," she says, spinning around in the chair to put her back to him.

So now he has a name, and he can hear the smile in her voice, so he leaves to give her some privacy.

It must be nice to have it all.

  
###

  
"I told you, Phil, it's not my business."

May and Piper have been going at it for a good ten minutes on the mats, and he came down here to talk. For a distraction.

It shouldn't bother him. He should want Daisy to be happy. There should be a million and one people knocking down her door, if her door wasn't in a secret base where no one could find it.

Of course it couldn't be another agent, that's just too complicated for her right now.

Piper, on the other hand, has turned out to be a perfect right hand.

Did he feel this way when Daisy was with Lincoln? He didn't like it, that she was hiding things, but he had reasons for that. They didn't know anything about him. They couldn't just trust him. And that ended badly for Daisy, but it wasn't her fault.

"Ouch," he says jokingly as Piper lands May on her back, and she smiles up at her from the floor. He's seen that smile before.

"She let me do that," Piper grins, trying to catch her breath and offering May a hand up. "Stroking my ego."

He was right all along. He was a lost cause. May should listen to him for once.

May holds her grip and is pulled in closer, a bit of an affectionate tug of war, and suddenly he feels like he's a space invader.

"We have a whole new set of recruits to go to work on," May says loudly, turning back to him. "And Daisy could use a distraction. She's not the only one."

He opens his mouth to protest, but then closes it, because he knows how to lose an argument gracefully.

They both look over his body language, his hands on his hips.

"What's the big deal?" Piper asks. "Is it that he's older?" There's almost the hint of scoff in her voice. "Some of us don't mind partners with a bit more experience."

"Don't mistake age for experience," May says, the corner of her mouth turning up.

"Oh, it's no mistake."

It must be nice to have it all.

  
###

  
The dress.

The last time Daisy was in a dress.

The dress is for Diego.

No, not Diego, it's for diplomacy. This is business, like she said.

"Aren't you going to offer to come along?" she asks, like she doesn't mind crushing him a little more under those very expensive pointed heels that she had Agent Koenig procure for her.

He knows this because Koenig actually had asked him for help. He cares about that stuff, May does not, and that he'd know the best places to find it.

And that he cares about Daisy and would want her to have the best, since Daisy just shrugged him off when Koenig asked if she had any shops in mind.

The notes she gave him had a few rules which Koenig had very solemnly explained to him.

"One: she has to be able to fight in it. So, I'm thinking big slit up the side. HUGE."

That got a scowl out of him at the time, but the dress does, in fact have a huge slit up the side. There is no doubt she can maneuver in it, he thinks, as she crosses from the closet in her Director's quarters and goes into the bathroom.

"Two: something soft. If she's going to have to wear it all night, she might as well be comfortable."

The dress trails after her, a deep red silk fabric, loose at the bottom and then fitted and simple crepe at the top.

"Three: has to keep the girls in place. Her words, not mine."

The dress has a high neck with a small collar, but her arms and shoulders are bare. Presumably if she should need to use them, even though there's not much fabric to the back of it. The kind of not enough that you could contact skin if you were dancing.

"It's just a charity event, but there are going to be some important people there," she says, to him. "I'm being introduced.

Daisy is applying lipstick, and it's a nice brownish pink shade, one that he's not used to seeing her wear. Or watching her put on as she puckers her lips and blinks back at her reflection in the mirror.

"Sure," he says, finding his voice, staring at her reflection. "I'll drive you."

She stares back at him like she expected him to say something else.

  
###

  
They don't talk much on the drive. He doesn't ask.

Daisy turns on the radio and flips through stations and stops on FM 97.1.

"Oldies but goodies," Daisy says, matter-of-factly, sitting back in the seat.

"Those songs aren't that old," he says, looking over at her with chagrin. It's an 80s station. "You know that, right?"

"I'm teasing you," she tells him with a short laugh, staring at him like she was just waiting for his reaction. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing's up with me," he lies, looking back at the freeway, and the cars ahead of them as they cross the bridge in Lola with the moon reflecting on the water.

She just hmphs at him, and then pulls down the visor to check her lipstick again, like she's unsure about the color or wearing it at all. Daisy doesn't usually care about this kind of stuff, she must want to make an impression, or fit in.

"You look great," he reassures her, and she freezes for a moment, like she's thinking of something to say to that.

He realizes that he's complimented her on many things, but never her appearance. Except for the time he compared her to Lola. And her knowing expression at the time, like he'd given something away, but that it made her happy.

That isn't something he's thought about in a long time. He was just being earnest, wasn't he?

"Like, the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen?" she asks, as if she's reading his mind.

His breath catches in his chest, and he keeps his eyes ahead on the road, at the stately building in front of him, where this conversation will end.

Daisy will be complimented all night, he knows that. She's just teasing him again.

"I think we've arrived," he tells her, as they pull up to the valet area.

She gives him a smile, a sad-looking one, as the valet opens up the door and helps her out of Lola.

"I'll be here if you need me," he promises her.

  
###

  
He knows where to get the good coffee and a nice indulgent donut from the food trailers around this area.

This used to be his stomping grounds not long ago. It still is in some way, but he comes here on her orders now.

Taking orders has never bothered him.

Taking orders from Daisy bothers him even less, he thinks, as he takes a drink of the black coffee and sucks the stickiness of the donut glaze off his fingers.

The radio is playing _I Want To Know What Love Is_ by Foreigner and now he has to just laugh at himself, nodding in agreement as he eats another bite.

He thought he'd accepted death, that he was on borrowed time. But he didn't die and now he has to live the rest of his life.

It's always been SHIELD, and now Daisy is SHIELD.

Now Daisy is everything. Maybe someone else's everything.

He's not sure how exactly he fits into all of this now. It all made more sense when he thought he was dying. That's a shame.

"Daisy?"

She's walking towards him, with her shoes in her hand, all of her lipstick is gone, her expression dream-like or like an apparition of his thoughts, as if she is the answer to the song coming out of Lola's radio.

"Are you okay?" he asks her, when she comes to rest against Lola beside him.

She leans to dump the shoes into the car seat and plants her hands against Lola's body, sliding closer to him to look at the food in his hand.

"Is that a donut?" she asks him, practically leering at it.

"Yeah. Want some?"

Her hand reaches out for his and raises it to her mouth as she takes a bite of the donut from his hand, then closes her eyes in pleasure, in a way that sends instant tingles to all his extremities.

"So much better than that stuff with caviar on it," she says, as she finishes chewing and swallows, her eyes open and looking up at him. "This is a good song."

"Yeah," he replies, softly, trying to read her expression and not wanting to end the moment. To make sure that he's reading it right.

"Want to take me away from all this?"

  
###

  
This isn't the first time he's been to this pier, but it is the first time he's parked here with someone.

There are people down on the beach partying and playing music. It is a nice night. The sound of the ocean is nearby and the moon is full and out on display.

"You're going to have to teach me how you do it," she tells him, as breeze stirs the air between them. "Faking it."

He doesn't answer because he can sense she has a lot more to say than just that.

"I've never been that great at faking it. Of telling myself stories that I wanted to hear," she says, leaning her head against her hand, propped on Lola's door. "It's always all the stories I don't want to hear."

"It's a new challenge, but you're doing great. You just have to trust your instincts," he tells her. Because it's true. He can't tell her that enough.

"It's not enough. Does it ever feel like enough?" she asks, turning to him, eyes locked on his.

That he can't answer for her, because he doesn't know. He's never thought about what would be enough for him, it's always been out of his reach. There's always been a reason that a part of him has held back.

"You don't know either," she says, shaking her head at him. "Didn't you ever want to know?"

He's afraid to know. Afraid of what he can't have, saying he's satisfied with only an approximation of it. Now with all of this time to think about it.

"Tell me," he manages to say. The one thing he's always been certain of is her. Of finding a way to fit into her life.

"It's everything," she says quietly, making him lean in closer to hear her. "This. Not that you pitied me, or yourself about a life you never lived. You gave me everything except for the one thing I wanted most."

He sits back in the seat, leaning away from her, because it hits him so hard. Out in the open instead of hidden away and glimpsed at whenever he needed to remind himself that she could go on without him. That SHEILD would go on without him, but not without her.

"Daisy, I'm so sorry."

And it's enough.

  
###

  
The dress, it turns out, is for him after all.

The music is for them, even though it's just the radio in some shabby little motel room halfway between the base and the party she ditched. He wasn't carrying that much cash in his wallet.

"Diego is really hot, though," she tells him, as they sway to the music. "Hard to resist those eyes. But they aren't blue."

His hand lands on the open back of her dress, fingers splayed hot against her skin as he turns them in the room.

The ocean is there on the other side, the windows are open facing it and it's quiet except for the music and their conversation.

"I'm sorry, Diego who?" he asks with a smirk and she buries her face against his shoulder and smiles. "I'll admit I was jealous," he whispers next to her ear.

"I wasn't trying-"

"I know," he assures her. "I was though. Figuring out my new place in all of this, and I guess we both are?"

They came here mostly because it was late, and they wanted to talk more and be left alone. But they both knew when they came here there were other possibilities. The most clichéd kind that only happen when you're the kind of people who get everything they want, like in the movies.

There is a lull in the music for a moment, the station on the alarm clock switching to automation because of the late hour. Enough of an interruption to switch the focus and then their mouths are on each other's and the idea of taking things slowly flies out the open window.

She's the one to deepen the kiss first, holding onto him while trying to help him slip off the suit jacket until he just does it himself and tosses it to the floor, turning him with her hand on the knot of his tie and pushing him down onto the bed.

Daisy must know what she wants. She must have thought about this, all of this time. Her hands are on his belt, prying apart the front of his pants. He wasted so much time, and he tries to stay out of his head as he leans back on his elbows.

His hips lift to help her get his slacks down to his knees, her fingers trailing along the hair on his navel, and then she loosens his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt, teasing his mouth with her tongue until he's practically ready to beg her, laid out on his back as she moves over him, her thigh escaping from the expanse of silk until she's straddled him.

He wants Daisy to be in control, but he wants her mouth again, he wants to show her how much he loves her, he wants to tell her everything, to let it all spill out of him now. Confess.

"Kiss me," he says it, staring at his fingers on her bare thigh. He doesn't even care that it sounds like begging. He finds her eyes are on his chest, staring at his scar as she traces over it with two fingers.

She slides down and presses her lips to the scar, taking her thigh out of his reach, as his hips jump and he groans, loudly, her hand moving over the front of his boxer briefs to cup him through the dark blue fabric.

"Please, I need you," he pleads, trying to find his breath. "I need you, Daisy."

Then she comes to lay on her side next to him, putting her head on her bent elbow, using it as a pillow, her thumb tracing along his bottom lip.

"Say it again," she tells him, staring at his mouth, like she's waiting for the words.

"I need you-"

She kisses him again, tasting it as he's saying it, taking his prosthetic in her hand and moving it onto her body as he starts to touch her through the dress, the beautiful, dark fabric pooling up around her waist, as his hand moves it away.

Her mouth presses, open, against his bare shoulder where she tugs the shirt down. He brings them closer together, intertwining their bodies, her hair spilling out over his chest, his face as her lips finds their way to his again.

So this is what it feels like, he thinks.

Having it all.


End file.
